


Changes.

by rubyrosettared



Category: Being Human UK
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 20:24:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7859875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyrosettared/pseuds/rubyrosettared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A certain vampire meets a certain werewolf. Set pre Season One, this is my interpretation of how their friendship began. A one shot, originally written in 2011, it's been edited and tidied up here and there since then.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changes.

**Changes.**

He can hear them. He knows what he’s going to walk in on and he briefly closes his eyes and sighs. Seth has been in a belligerent mood for a couple of days now, just spoiling for some trouble and an excuse to let rip. He pities the poor sod on the receiving end of his irritable mood right now and he hopes he can get there in time before it gets too nasty and too bloody for comfort.

Mitchell can hear them shouting encouragement to each other, the sound of a foot making a connection to the body, the expulsion of air and the groan of pain that accompanies it. He tries not to wince. As he walks through the narrow alley and into the wider yard, the coppery scent of blood assaults his senses and immediately something else with it. His eyes momentarily scorch black with warning; _werewolf._ As he emerges into the yard, they return to normal and he sees Seth and two of his followers surrounding someone who is huddled pathetically on the wet ground, his knees tucked up to his chest trying in vain to protect himself, he’s pretty sure it’s a he.

“That’s enough!” he announces above the cat-calling and the sounds of violence. All three of them pause and Seth turns an incredulous face his way.

“What? But we’re having fun!” he exclaims. Mitchell rolls his eyes in response and walks closer to him. He keeps his expression calm; his hands are still tucked in the pockets of his coat. He regards Seth steadily.

“I said that’s enough,” he repeats and Seth scowls. He may be older than Mitchell but he’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer and he always regards him with a modicum of wariness.

“Why?” he demands instead, his voice heavily petulant.

Mitchell rolls his eyes. “Because you’re making me sick,” he snips back and glares at him.

Seth sighs and looks at his two friends. “Leave him,” he instructs and then looks back at Mitchell and his eyes gleam maliciously. “Maybe you want him for yourself?” he insinuates, hoping perhaps to get a reaction out of him. He does get a reaction in that Mitchell just rolls his eyes.

“Whatever…meet me in the Queens Arms in about fifteen minutes.” It isn’t a request and they don’t take it as such.

The dog in the meantime has scrambled to his feet and he stares at him warily. His body is stiff, defensive and he’ll attack if he has to. Mitchell regards him. His face is bloody and scraped; he can smell him from here. He can also smell his fear, his anger as well as the blood.

He waits until the vampires are out of sight before he looks at him again.

“Are you okay?” he asks him.  The other man blinks suspiciously but doesn’t answer him immediately. He sighs and takes a couple of steps towards him but the dog quickly begins to back away, his hands going up. Mitchell crouches down and picks up the spectacles that are lying crumpled amidst the rubbish bags and he holds them out to him. He seems surprised as he takes them from him and he watches him put them on. He straightens once he does and stares at him.

“I won’t let you kill me,” he tells him in a voice trembling with bravado and Mitchell continues to regard him steadily. He’s terrified of him, the stench of fear comes off him in waves but he stands tall all the same.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Mitchell replies. He watches him wipe his face and frown at the blood on his hands.

“This is the third time this has happened,” he snaps. He looks at him. “I just want to be left alone, can’t you fucking vampires get that through your thick skulls?” His voice rises angrily and Mitchell doesn’t blame him for his rage. Wanting to be left alone and actually being left alone are two separate things to vampires.

“It’s the werewolf thing, they sense something…weak… in them and attack, it’s nothing personal,” Mitchell answers.

“I’m going to have to leave my job because there’s no way I can explain… _this_ to my boss tomorrow without letting on what I am.” His eyes fill with angry tears and the vampire feels mildly sorry for him.

“Can’t you take a few days off sick instead?”

“I’ve only been here a week so what do you think?” he snaps back.  Mitchell doesn’t reply.

“I’m sorry, they’re morons.” He wants to say that there’ll be other jobs but he doesn’t think he’ll want to hear that right now.

“What’s your name?” he asks instead and he watches him blink suspiciously.

“Ge…George…Sands,” he responds shakily. Mitchell gives a single nod as he absorbs the name. He looks like a George somehow.

“Well George Sands, I’m John Mitchell but people just call me Mitchell,” he replies. There’s a pause as they eye each other; one with barely contained hostile suspicion, the other with mild interest.  Mitchell chances taking another step towards him and is somewhat satisfied that he doesn’t bolt.

“Will you be okay?” he asks him quietly. George stares at him for another long moment. Initially his nod is hesitant before gathering strength. He takes a shaky deep breath.

 “Yeah, I will be.”

Mitchell regards him; his face is going to be every shade of the rainbow tomorrow.  “Do you want to go somewhere for a drink?” he asks and George frowns and Mitchell backs up a step. “Maybe not given..." he indicates his face, "it was just a suggestion.” He turns and then pauses. He looks back at him. “You’ll be okay for tonight, Seth is an arsehole but he won’t touch you again if I say so.”

“I don’t need your protection,” George retorts, his voice going stiff again. Mitchell calmly shrugs.

“Maybe not but if I hadn’t shown up when I did, you’d probably be dead right now. The offer is there, I’m usually about if you change your mind sometime. Get some ice on that eye.” He points at it and then walks away, disappearing back into the shadows.

George watches him go and once he’s alone, his knees give out and he sinks to the ground amidst the rubbish bags and the dirt and he buries his head in his hands.

* * *

Mitchell shows up at the pub as promised. He sees them grouped together at a table. The pub is busy and as he slips and slides through the crowd, he’s almost overwhelmed by pounding heartbeats, of blood rushing through veins and he can feel the age old yearning begin to rise inside of him. In the old days, if he wanted a snack then he’d use his charm and entice his victim away.  Now he’s just tired, he doesn’t want to do this anymore, he doesn’t want to _be_ this anymore.

Seth watches him approach and he shuffles along to make room. “Did you kill him then?” he asks and his tone isn’t particularly discreet. Mitchell freezes him with a stare and Seth almost goes right into himself at the look. “Sorry…” he mutters and picks up his pint.

Mitchell regards them all. “No I didn’t. The three of you against one man…”

“He’s a stinking dog!” Seth hisses at him.

“And what are you? What are we?” Mitchell taunts him. Seth frowns and Mitchell can just about read his mind;  _better than some fucking dog_. Mitchell just rolls his eyes and looks at the other two vampires present.

“He was minding his own business; he’s no threat to you or to us so leave him be in future, okay?”

“Why?” It’s almost a whine and Mitchell looks back at Seth. Yet again he's reminded why he’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer and there are times when he really, _really_ wants to put him out of his misery. Like now. But he doesn't. 

“Because I said so that’s why,” he replies instead and Seth rolls his eyes.

“You’re such a party pooper,” he complains

“And you’ll do as I say or there’ll be consequences,” Mitchell growls back and Seth falls silent, Mitchell hopes for a while.

* * *

Mitchell emerges from the pub a little while later. He turns his head and sees someone cross the road and he realises that it’s George from the café. Without questioning why, he follows.

It doesn’t take George long to realise that he’s being followed and Mitchell has to admire that. There have been times in the past when he’s been right on top of a person before they’ve realised that he’s there. He slows when George falters and then stops all together. He doesn’t turn around.

“I have no money or anything of value on me. I’ve had a really, _really_ shitty evening and this is really not a good time to have a go,” he sighs almost tiredly. He then slowly turns around and he straightens in surprise when he sees Mitchell standing there.

“Did you change your mind? Are you here to finish what _they_ started?” he demands. Mitchell just shakes his head.

“No…I just wanted to make sure you got home safely that’s all,” he replies and George makes a show of widening his eyes.

“Really? So now you’re a new breed of vampire are you? One that _cares_?” he drawls.

“You didn’t deserve what happened earlier, I’d apologise on their behalf but they’re morons and they don’t know any better,” he responds calmly.

“Why are you doing this? Why can’t you just leave me alone?” George flares angrily. Mitchell takes a step back and raises both hands.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeats.

“Well excuse me if I don’t believe you.”

Mitchell shrugs. “It’s your choice,” he answers.

George sighs loudly, tiredly. “I’m tired, I hurt and I just want to go home,” he tells him in a plaintive voice.

“Then let’s go, we can talk on the way.”

George snorts. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“You need to get some ice on your face,” Mitchell replies and George opens his mouth to reply but seems to change his mind because nothing comes out.

“You know what? I’m too tired, I just can’t be bothered…if you’re going to kill me then I suppose you’d have done it by now unless torture is your thing….” His voice trails off at Mitchell’s look of puzzlement and he shakes his head. “Never mind, you’re going to follow me with or without my permission I suppose.” He watches the vampire approach him, stand beside him.

* * *

George lives in a small, poky flat that once upon a time had been part of a bigger residence. Mitchell takes in the surroundings. The walls are damp and paper thin and he can smell the mould. It’s cold too. He waits as George extracts his keys from his jacket and unlocks the door. That lock is next to useless, one good kick in the right place and anyone could get in. He pauses at the entrance and he waits.  George turns and looks blankly at him.

“What?” he demands.

“I need to be invited in,” he tells him, leaning his shoulder up against the door jamb. Again George blinks, this time in surprise.

“I thought that was a myth?” Mitchell just shakes his head.

“Oh. Well, come in I suppose,” he invites and with a half-smile, Mitchell steps over the threshold. George moves around him to close the door behind him. For a moment they stand in the tiny living space. There’s a tiny kitchen area to his left and his living room is also his bedroom. Mitchell notices that the place, such as it is, is immaculate. He thinks of his own room. It looks like a bomb has gone off in it but he knows where everything is, in a fashion. In here a person could perform open heart surgery it’s that clean.

“Have a seat,” George tells him and Mitchell goes to the small kitchen table and lowers himself onto a chair. He watches George carefully. He’s moving around cautiously, his arm protectively wrapped around his upper stomach.  He frowns.

“What’s the matter?” he demands and George looks at him.

“Nothing’s the matter,” he answers defensively and his eyes widen when Mitchell gets to his feet.

“You’re hurt.”

“In what manner? Your friends _hurt_ me earlier tonight,” he reminds him.

“They’re not my friends,” Mitchell mutters and frowns at him.

“They’re vampires aren’t they?”

“Doesn’t mean that I like them, George I mean it, the way you’re holding yourself. It’s your ribs isn’t it?”  

George freezes.

“We need to get to casualty, get them x rayed”

George shakes his head. “I’ll be okay…”

“And a broken rib could puncture a lung and you’d be in even more trouble. Come on. I insist.” He walks to the door and opens it. He waits.

George stares at him and then sighs loudly.

“It’ll be like a fucking zoo in there at this time of night…” he mutters.

* * *

He’s right, it is like a zoo. Mix in the correct amount of alcohol and everyone thinks they’re a superhero or that they’re truly invincible. A punch to the face quickly disproves that theory most of the time. George follows Mitchell to the admitting desk and he watches how he leans across and smiles at the harried looking receptionist.

“Evening Melanie…my friend needs to be checked over, what are the odds of him being seen by someone quickly?” George watches as Melanie seems to blink almost owlishly up at Mitchell. He sees how her gaze flickers between them and they widen marginally with shock.

“What happened to your friend?” she breathes.  Mitchell glances at George over his shoulder before turning his attention back to her.

“He was beaten up by a gang of morons and he might have cracked some ribs. Is Doctor Conway on tonight?” He smiles persuasively and George watches the girl blush like a schoolgirl. He can’t believe it; doesn’t she know what he _is_?

“Its bedlam tonight, you’re lucky he’ll be seen before midnight.” Her tone is apologetic and Mitchell sighs.

“It was worth a try, we’ll take our chances then. Thanks Mel.” He straightens up and George sees the warmth fade from his eyes. It’s a little scary to witness.

“How…how do you know her?” he demands in a loud whisper.

“I know her because I work here.”

George stops in his tracks and stares at him. “You…you _what?_ ”

Mitchell faces him calmly. “I said, I work here. I’m a porter, a janitor, a dogsbody…any manual grunt work, any bodily fluids that need cleaning up, if something or someone needs to be somewhere then it’s down to me to do it, to clean it up, to take them where they need to be,” he tells him.

George stares at him, his eyes growing wide.

“And all that blood…must be like a fast food restaurant for the likes of you.”

Mitchell refuses to be insulted, instead he shakes his head. “I don’t feed,” he tells him.

“A vampire that _doesn’t_ drink blood? Give me a break,” he sneers. Mitchell rolls his eyes.

“Believe whatever you want to George but I haven’t drunk human blood in a while, I have it under control.” He’s distracted by a nurse walking by. George watches how she stops beside Mitchell and smiles brightly at him.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.  She’s hugging what looks like a small pile of folders close to her chest and she’s positively beaming up at him. George has to wonder whether he has all the females in this hospital under a hypnotic spell. He watches Mitchell smile at her.

“Ah, you know me; I can’t keep away from the place. I’m here with my friend.” He indicates George and a peevish part of him wants to remind Mitchell that they aren’t friends. Not in the proper sense anyway. The brunette looks at him and she winces.

“Ouch…what happened to you?” she murmurs.

“A fight, you should see the other guys…Lauren…I don’t suppose you could get him in early could you?” His tone turns almost lethally persuasive. A smile warms up Lauren’s big brown eyes.

“It’ll cost you…” she flirts.

“Will it now…and what will it cost me exactly?” His smile doesn’t even waver.

Lauren slowly rolls her eyes. “Oh I don’t know…maybe a drink sometime soon…my shifts are crazy at the moment so I can’t say for certain but maybe one night in the future?” she suggests hopefully.

Mitchell’s smile widens appreciatively. “I’m sure we can work something out, just let me know when you can and we’ll take it from there…”

Lauren’s eyes brighten at the acceptance. “Great…let me see what I can do about your friend,” she promises and Mitchell watches her bustle off again. He then turns to look at George.

“She’s a good girl is Lauren, she’ll get you seen quick as you like,” he promises him and George rolls his eyes.

“Are you in possession of a magic spell or something? That’s the second woman you’ve got falling over themselves for you!” he hisses. Mitchell’s expression changes to one of confusion.

“It’s because you’re Irish isn’t it? They hear that accent and their knickers miraculously fall around their ankles. Un- _fucking_ -believable!” he mutters and he spins and stomps away. Mitchell sighs and follows him.

* * *

Lauren is as good as her word and George is seen within the hour. He’s uncomfortably aware of Mitchell sitting on the chair beside the bed as a variety of nurses and doctors poke and prod at him. The younger nurses seem to fall over themselves for a touch of attention from the vampire, the older ones not so much and he doesn’t seem to try to charm those ones. George wonders why. Maybe there are some women who are immune to his seeming unlimited charms. He’s sent to x ray and a couple of butterfly stitches are applied to a cut above his left eyebrow.  A while later and he leaves with a prescription for some strong painkillers and instructions to take things easy for the next few days.

“You didn’t have to stay with me,” he tells Mitchell and he looks at him.

“Yeah I did.”

George stops and regards him critically.  “You really didn’t. You didn’t have to stop them from beating me up back at the café, you didn’t have to come here but you did. Why?” he asks curiously.

“I don’t know.” He still can quite put his finger on it.

“But I’m a _werewolf_ , you’re supposed to hate me and vice versa.”

“Well you’ve been doing a good enough impression of that all evening,” Mitchell quips and George frowns.

“You know what I mean. Why? What’s in it for you?” he demands in a low voice. Mitchell looks away and he pushes his hands in his pockets. After a moment he looks back at him.

“I’ve been a vampire for almost a century now, on the fringes of what’s thought of as normal society. I’ve watched that society evolve and change but I’ve never felt a part of it exactly. I want to know what it feels like, to feel…human again.” It’s the first time that he’s voiced what is going on inside of his head and it still feels jumbled and confusing.

“So you took one look at me and thought I’d be a good role model? I’m a fucking _werewolf_ for Christ’s sake. For one night a month I’m primal, untamed, beastly…”

“But the rest of the time you’re not. You’re human or at least more human than I can ever be.”

George frowns at him. “I could be a raving lunatic for all you know.”

“Hello George, John Mitchell, vampire here,” he replies and for the first time, a glimmer of a smile crosses George Sands’ bruised and battered face.

“Yeah, I see what you mean.”

* * *

_Months later…_

“ _This_ is what you had in mind?” George exclaims.  Mitchell looks up at the windows of the house and he nods. There’s something about this place that calls out to him. He’s spent a while just staring at it and wondering.

“Yeah,” he answers simply. George squints as he follows Mitchell’s lead and looks up at the windows sparkling in the sunlight.

“But it’s _pink_!” he exclaims.

Mitchell looks at him. “So what?  You’re a werewolf, I’m a vampire and this is a pink house. The estate agent is desperate to rent it out, no one stays longer than a month. Aren’t you even curious to find out _why?_ ” He grins as he nudges him in the vicinity of his ribs and George frowns.

“Not particularly.”

“It’ll be great, the hospital is within walking distance so it’ll save a bundle on petrol costs and it seems like a nice neighbourhood.” He glances around at the terraced houses huddled together on the hill, some painted equally pretty colours, like square Easter eggs waiting to be discovered.

“I’ve just got a really good feeling about this place, that’s all,” he confides. George sighs in irritation and he turns his head as another car pulls up behind Mitchell’s Volvo. They watch the Estate Agent emerge from its interior and give them a professional smile.

“Mr Mitchell? Mr Sands? Ready to look around?” he enquires and the two men exchange a look.

They’re friends and also work colleagues. Mitchell managed to get him an interview at the hospital and now he was employed as a porter cum janitor cum general dogsbody. Over the intervening months he’s realised that his new friend is off the charts smart but incredibly shy, especially around women. He possesses a sharp, almost hysterical sense of humour and he’s loyal. He’d sensed something about him behind that café and he’s so glad that he made a nuisance of himself and pursued it. As George reminded him that night, he didn’t have to. He’s glad that he did. He gave him the strength to finally turn his back on Seth, on Herrick and on that whole lifestyle once and for all. Its hard going, he struggles constantly but with George by his side, he honestly feels like he can achieve anything. He’s going to really try and embrace being human.

“Yeah we are,” Mitchell responds with a smile. They watch the Estate Agent extract a bundle of keys. He unlocks the door and steps inside. He pauses when he sees both men standing on the doorstep. George looks at Mitchell. He looks back at the agent.

“What are you waiting for? Come inside, I guarantee you’ll find this property fulfils all your requirements,” the agent assures them almost too enthusiastically. The grin Mitchell flashes at his friend is wide as he steps over the threshold.

 George sighs and follows.


End file.
